


we still find each other at midnight

by letterando



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort/Angst, Domestic, Domestic Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Eating Disorders, Inspired by Doujinshi, KIZU Natsuki, Living Together, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Sashikizu, Separation Anxiety, Sharing a Bed, There is a protective Iwaizumi Hajime tag, alternative universe, enough said, gusari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterando/pseuds/letterando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first night together after Oikawa has come back home from the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we still find each other at midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shukufuku no namae wa](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/202852) by Gusari Sashikizu KIZU Natsuki. 



> So I was re-reading Gusari’s/Kizu Natsuki’s amazing works, and I found myself crying at the end of her IwaOi ‘verse (again) and then the feels made me write the bedroom scene you will find below. 
> 
> It turned out to be something slightly less awful than the other works I am currently working on, so I put a bit of context around it to make it vaguely presentable. 
> 
> I highly recommend letting your eyes feast on Gusari’s masterpiece series of doujins, but if you don’t want/don’t have time, I’ll just write down the strictly necessary context:  
> in Gusari-sensei’s ‘verse, our favourite dorks get together when they are 18 but Iwaizumi breaks up with Oikawa when they are 20 and even lands himself a girlfriend and in two months Oikawa’s condition gets so bad that he is suddenly hospitalized for anorexia and ulcer. 
> 
> I swear to god I cried when I read the hospital scene. What are you waiting for, [go read it!](http://hqscans.co.vu/post/141202502756/title-shukufuku-no-namae-wa-type-doujinshi)

_We still find each other at midnight_

_In the folds of these covers_

_They smell like us and our mishaps_

_And all the tears we shed._

 

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His mom used to tease him all the time with stories of how he had always been protective of Tooru-kun and in turn Oikawa’s mom loved to tease her son with stories of how Oikawa has always been so clingy, but only with Hajime-kun.

The difference is that Iwaizumi shouted and ranted at his mom to make her stop (she eventually did), while Oikawa’s smile became a huge grin and he even swayed on his chair as he gloated over embarrassing childhood anecdotes.

Iwaizumi always thought it was strange, nobody should be happy to be called  _clingy_.

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**February 8 th, 17:40.**

 

There were websites dedicated to the different methodologies of helping a loved one affected by anorexia. The forums were especially useful.

Iwaizumi had never, never in his life gave half a thought to anorexia. He didn’t care when the girls in school talked about diets, and he spared half of a tiny fuck  _en passe_  when he read about a worn out libero in Yokohama whose eating problem served as a warning to all athletes out there.

At 20, Iwaizumi  was a healthy 181cm for 74kg young man, with barely an ounce of fat on his body. He went to class, he studied, he played volleyball in the college team (first string, obviously) and he worked out fairly regularly. Sure, he wore himself out during practice before an exam to sweat the extra anxiety off, but he ate twice as much as when he didn’t have exams so there was that.

At 20, Iwaizumi had read every single anorexia website and blog he could find, printing the crucial passages, and posted in the more crowded forums. In a few minutes Oikawa was going to cross the threshold of Iwaizumi’s-  _their_  new flat and Iwaizumi was not going to leave his best friend alone.

Not again.

Iwaizumi got up from one of the chairs of the kitchen table and hurriedly surveyed the flat for the umpteenth time. A couple of glasses sat on the table, the chairs had their cushions washed, a neatly folded blanket laid on the couch, the remotes were on the low, tiny table in front of the television and Iwaizumi’s last movie of choice was still inside the BlueRay. The heater was on in the day area, in the bathroom – Iwaizumi put out spare washcloths and bought a spare body wash in case Oikawa forgot his and wanted to take a quick shower – and in their bedroom.

 _Their_  bedroom.

Iwaizumi couldn’t, for the life of him, he  _could.Not_  think about Oikawa’s mother as she looked through interminable website pages of single bedroom apartments where her son and her son’s boyfriend were going to live together for the foreseeeable future.

Iwaizumi couldn’t, and above all _did not_  want to think about it.

During his survey he found himself by the door of their bedroom (again) and hopelessly stared at the massive bed. He had changed the covers three days before so they wouldn’t feel stiff or smell straight out of the laundry, as he knew Oikawa disliked it.

He had also taken care to ruffle the bedsheets a bit on his side so the bed wouldn’t look like an impersonal brick of wood of cloth, but a lived in part of their apartment.

Just as Iwaizumi wondered, again for the umpteenth time, whether placing something on Oikawa’s bedside drawer would look patronizing or comforting, the door’s key clicked into place and Oikawa dragged a trolley inside.

Wasn’t the suitcase too heavy for Oikawa? Did the doctor gave him clearance to start the weight training part of his rehabilitation?

Iwaizumi had imagined Oikawa’s mother would accompany him, but maybe that was too childish for a 20 year old, or for Oikawa specifically. Did Oikawa's health state played a part? Would have the presence of his mother made him look too much like a patient after all? Was Iwaizumi expected to ask if Oikawa’s mother was downstairs with another suitcase and needed or wanted help?

But as Iwaizumi was opening his mouth, Oikawa looked up and smiled.

“Iwa-chan, hi~” he singsonged and for a moment Iwaizumi’s heart was lodged firmly in his throat.

“Nh.” mumbled Iwaizumi because apparently his brain intended to start this off brilliantly.

“Dunno what you want to begin unpacking but the bed’s made and the Giggling Duo put all the stuff in the kitchen already. Didn't even get a saying in.”

“Awww. Did you finally join their league or BBF Mommies, Iwa-chan?”

“Shut up.” grumbled Iwaizumi in response but Oikawa heard him well enough to chuckle.

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**A dinner photograph (blessed).**

 

Iwaizumi felt like a deity was examining his every move and if he so much as twitched a muscle wrong, the universe was going to strip him of his right to be in Oikawa’s life once and for all.

A couple of hours into their renewed cohabitation and Iwaizumi was sweating cold and his mind was reeling at the mere thought of calling Oikawa for dinner.

Light food, no meat yet and dairy and wheat byproducts in moderation. An abudance of fiber, vegetables and fruits, was alright but don’t let him drink too much.

 _He could do this. He could do this._  Thought Iwaizumi over and over as he stared, without seeing, the dishes he had arranged on the kitchen table.

What if the rice was too much and Oikawa couldn’t finish it? What if he had dipped the mushrooms in too much oil when he cooked them? Was the tofu too strong a reminder that he had a strict diet to adhere to before trying anything with more substance?

No, no. He had to have faith in himself, for Oikawa's sake especially. If Oikawa caught a whiff of what was going on in his mind, Iwaizumi knew, he felt, that the other would turn tail and run.

“Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi looked up and found Oikawa looking at him from their bedroom’s door.

Because of Oikawa’s soft smile and of the still wintertime clothes, anyone could take a look at Iwaizumi’s best friend and former lover and see that he was happy. But Iwaizumi’s reality was made of other stuff. Thus he grit his teeth and thanked every deity that he was caught with a glass on his lips.

“Smells good. Um, Iwa-chan?” asked Oikawa again with a slightly worried pitch, likely having caught Iwaizumi’s grimace.

“I think this glass stink?” countered Iwaizumi, making it half a statement and half a question, and he never felt more glad for his split-second ability to navigate problems, honed by years of volleyball matches.

If Oikawa fell for it on purpose he didn’t show, and approached Iwaizumi until he was right in front of him, leaning down to smell the glass. It was all fine and a touch shy of -  _is he going to kiss me oh shit it’s been so long holy shit_  – when Oikawa brushed Iwaizumi's wrist with two fingers for an endless second, before letting go and looking up with a tilt to his head.

“No? I don’t think so?”

“Mh.” hummed Iwaizumi then and there, since he suddenly forgot what the fuck were they talking about and recognize his mood. He had picked the awful habit of getting all mushy and shaking when his and Oikawa's domesticity came to surface like so, and handling fragile material had proved to be...not ideal.

It wasn’t until he let the glass sit back on the table that Iwaizumi reassessed the situation and his mind turned back online, only to promptly spiraling back again in a series of disastrous “what ifs”.

As he stood like a panicking idiot between the kitchen counter and the table, Oikawa scooped the food from the pots and pans into their bowls and plates and Iwaizumi managed to wrestle his mind into a resemblance of order just in time to sit down when Oikawa did, avoiding looking like a pathetically panicking sod.

However, as he sat down, the sudden need to check on Oikawa almost made Iwaizumi look over him. He stopped himself soon enough to catch a glimpse of Oikawa’s chopsticks picking up a few mushrooms before he turned to his own dinner and cursed everything he could think of in his head.

He couldn’t stare at Oikawa as he ate, that would definitely infuriate him. Or worse, depress him. Iwaizumi just had to trust his best friend to eat enough.

But as he slipped the first bite past his lips he remembered the burnt on his tongue of the coffee he bought in the hospital. He drank it while he was basically running back to Oikawa's room in his haste to get back to his best friend's side as soon as possible. He couldn’t wait to see those purple-rimmed eyes flutter open once again, or for that limp hand to respond to his steely clutch in kind.

“The rice-“ started Oikawa and Iwaizumi instantly followed, out of habit.

“If you say that the rice is too sticky I’m gonna punch you.”

To which Oikawa snorted around his food, nearly choked, then outright laughed, and kept giggling for a good 15 minutes.

All in all, their first dinner back together didn’t turn out a complete disaster.

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**A long night.**

 

However, since Iwaizumi had apparently been put in charge of Oikawa’s recovery (by their moms), none other than Iwaizumi could fuck everything up just as he managed to make Oikawa comfortably settle in in their new apartment.

He was doing fine until after the shower, giving Oikawa his space by catching up on his homework by the bedroom’s desk as Oikawa watched the TV in the main room, but when he went to bed and found Oikawa already there, for a moment Iwaizumi forgot the last few months and got annoyed at the distance Oikawa had kept by laying down on the very far end of his side. What the hell.

So he grumbled intelligibly and slipped a hand on his boyfriend’s side to make him roll closer and that was how everything went to shit. Because where his hand remembered Oikawa’s side should have been, there was nothing. His hand fell on air until it met something hard. Yes it was something weirly hard and jutting out sharply, like-

_Holy fuck._

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say. What to think. That wasn’t the side of his lover, of his best friend. That was clothes and bones and as Iwaizumi laid there with his arm outstretched on the mattress he replayed the call he received weeks ago.

Oikawa’s mom, in tears, the name of the hospital. Anorexia, most likely, but they had to do a few more tests because he had coughed blood. He had coughed  _blood_ , for fuck’s sake.

Iwaizumi rolled until he was facing the ceiling and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, letting the sound of a passing car in the street below and the padding of their neighbors upstairs steer him somehow.

He wondered if Oikawa had laid like that, in the same manner, in their previous apartment, where they had eaten, laughed and fucked almost on a daily basis, desperately trying to steer himself in a world without Iwaizumi and failing, miserably failing and falling deeper in a black hole of auto-destructiveness with each breath, with each thought.

Iwaizumi’s breath stuttered as he slowly exhaled. He couldn’t do this. He slipped outside the warm blankets, folding them closer to Oikawa’s frame, flicked the torchlight of his phone alight, picked a random blanket from their drawers and padded out of the room.

Until he could face reality, the couch would do.

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**We still find each other at midnight.**

 

It hurt. There was a weight in and on his chest, threatening to crush him and even breathing started to edge towards painful.

Iwaizumi knew what Oikawa was doing in bed, he knew it. He just needed to gather enough courage to get up and walk the few meters which separated them. They were a handful of steps but they felt like an insuperable obstacle to him.

He shook his blanket off, his arms shivering in the cold and laid in the darkness for a few minutes. Then brought up the covers back again then promptly pushed them down again.

He was going to get up. He was going to get up any second now. He heard a creak somewhere in the apartment, and sat up straight on the couch. He didn’t care if the sound was real or imagined, once his back was straight, he was swinging his legs out of his cocoon of relative warmth and padding into the bedroom.

At the door, Iwaizumi focused exclusively on his own heartbeat, somewhere near his tonsils, because he knew that if he was going to pay attention to Oikawa’s own, he was going to lose his freaking mind and would not be able to respond for his subsequent actions.

But as soon as he conceived the resolution, it crumbled when he heard a whimper. In the semi-darkness, Oikawa was a small heap of blankets, from under which halved, scattered whimpers and sniffles could be heard if one strained their ears.

Even a rock would have felt something at the sound.

Iwaizumi took the last two steps in stride, his body on auto-pilot, but he halted himself again when his mind short-circuited about the next best course of action. Would raise the covers send Oikawa into a panicked state? Or would touching him trigger something?

Actions spoke louder than words, but maybe he had to dismiss actions entirely, in this case.

“Tooru.” whispered Iwaizumi, and cursed himself promptly. He had meant to say ‘Oikawa’. First names were for... their more intimate moments. 

Oikawa stilled, and his ragged breath replaced the sniffles. Better than nothing, thought Iwaizumi.

“Tooru.” he repeated, steeling himself. “Make room.”

And after a few moments, his felt the weight in his chest lift a little when Oikawa started turning around in the covers slowly. Too nervous to wait and getting cold fast, Iaizumi raised the blankets and slipped underneath, so that when his head touched the pillow, he was face-to-face with his best friend.

Even in the semi-darkness Iwaizumi could make out the puffy and red-circled eyes, wide open in confusion, and he couldn’t help it when his hand moved on its own to caress Oikawa’s soft locks. But he caught himself at the last second again and let it hover on Oikawa’s hair for a bit before letting it fall slowly on his shoulder instead.

Iwaizumi wondered, as he scooted closer, if he should say anything else.

 _Stop crying_ , his mind instantly supplied, but it sounded too imperative.  _Come here_ , his brain offered next, but he himself was already shifting to tuck Oikawa snugly against his torso.  _I’m so fucking sorry_ , his entire being screamed, as his hands shook when he slid Oikawa’s too thin body closer to his.

After a few shuddering breaths Iwaizumi realized that the pounding in his ears was his heartbeat and that his hands kept shaking as they rested on Oikawa’s back, where he could trace each and every single rib, let alone the vertebrae.

He let a hand fall limp on the mattress behind Oikawa's back and finally slid the other in Oikawa’s hair, desperately trying to get the feel of the bones out of his head, but the more Iwaizumi pushed the thought away, the more he knew that he needed to face reality head-on and the more he wanted to know more. Before he let his self-loath and regret impede again, he re-assumed his previous position.

For each and every rib his fingers brushed, Iwaizumi cried, screamed, pulled at his hair, punched himself and prayed. He re-newed his plead to whatever deity was listening that he would become a better man for Oikawa's sake and he would never let his best friend alone again.

Aside from punching himself, he repeated those actions cyclically when he first heard Oikawa had been hospitalized and remembering those frenzied moments, ironically, calmed him down.

By the time the sound of his heartbeat had quieted down, Iwaizumi presumed that Oikawa was sound asleep already, but, listening closely, he knew better by the pace of Oikawa’s breath, to which he had grown accostumed to.

“Go to sleep, moron.” he mumbled against Oikawa’s forehead and hooked his ankles with Oikawa’s skinny shins, pushing down his arm for a moment to make sure that Oikawa wasn’t leaning away from him by jutting his low abdomen farther.

“Iwa-chan…” whispered the taller man, and in their position Iwaizumi felt his adam’s apple bobbing once, twice against his pectorals.

“I’m so-sor-“ but the end of the apology got sucked by a quick, too quick intake of breath, and before Iwaizumi could even think about berating Oikawa that he himself was even more at fault, Oikawa’s whole body was jostled by a violent shake and he started sobbing, open-mouthed and soundless, against Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

 _Never again_ , thought Iwaizumi caressing Oikawa’s skeletal back.  _Please. I’ll do anything. Just, never again._

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End file.
